


Hero, Martyr, Idiot

by cywscross



Category: Bleach
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Bad Parenting, Child Neglect, Depression, Gen, M/M, Neglect, Past Child Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Post-Winter War (Bleach), Roommates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-29
Updated: 2017-05-02
Packaged: 2018-10-25 07:14:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10759362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cywscross/pseuds/cywscross
Summary: The day Ichigo gets back on his feet with a deadline hanging over his head, he goes right back to scowling at Renji’s antics and arguing semantics with Ishida and making fun of Rukia, and everyone around him breathes a collective sigh of relief when they see it. Isshin does one better and laughs, “That’s my son; nothing puts him down for long! I told you he’d be alright!”Shinji just squints dubiously at him, at all of them, and wonders, “Are ya really that stupid?”--Or, the one in which Shinji tells the Captain-Commander where to stick it, packs his bags, barges back into Ichigo's life, and refuses to leave.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I am officially finished all my essays and exams (for this term T_T). I've slept maybe three hours in the past week, and I have literally written not a single word of fanfic in three weeks, which is definitely a record for me. But someone asked if I could post something for Bleach, and the response for my Shinji/Ichigo fic (although be warned, there isn't actually any romance in this yet, and I'm still deciding whether or not I should stick it in) seemed generally accepting, so I've decided to post it, and you can consider this my yay-exams-are-over-now-I'll-be-trying-to-get-back-into-the-swing-of-writing-again fic. It's unfortunately not finished, but there's around 15kt words already written, which splits into about four short-ish chapters, so I'll post a chapter a day, starting today, and I hope you'll enjoy :)
> 
> Now Imma gonna crash for the next sixteen hours or so, see ya~~

 

The day Ichigo gets back on his feet with a deadline hanging over his head, he goes right back to scowling at Renji’s antics and arguing semantics with Ishida and making fun of Rukia, and everyone around him breathes a collective sigh of relief when they see it.  Isshin does one better and laughs, “That’s my son; nothing puts him down for long! I told you he’d be alright!”

Shinji just squints dubiously at him, at all of them, and wonders, “Are ya really that stupid?”

 

* * *

 

 

Ichigo crumbles the way anyone with what amounts to a death sentence looming on the horizon crumbles – that is to say, he withdraws even as he throws himself into life with the desperation of a man treading water in the middle of an ocean with no shore in sight, scowling harder, arguing louder, lying to himself and to those around him in a way he’s never needed to before.

Arguably, Ichigo’s been treading water the moment Urahara Kisuke and Kurosaki Isshin looked at a doe-eyed baby boy with a tuft of orange hair and saw instead the offspring of a Shinigami and a Quincy with the potential to bring down Aizen Sousuke.

A hero.  A martyr.

An _idiot_ , Shinji thinks, and to this day, his opinion still hasn’t changed.

 

* * *

 

Shinji meets Kurosaki Ichigo when the kid is a little over two months old.  He senses the ridiculous amount of reiryoku before he’s even within five blocks of the Kurosaki household.  He makes a face when Isshin grins and asks him _isn’t he cute, Shinji?_ He declines when Masaki offers to let him hold the boy.

He looks at Ichigo – all big brown eyes and chubby hands and clinging to Masaki like a proper mama’s boy – and he doesn’t even bother to stay for dinner before he heads back to the warehouse that he now calls home.

He turns down all early childhood visits and later childhood pictures, only hearing of the boy whenever Kisuke or Yoruichi brings them news, and he doesn’t lay eyes on Ichigo again until sixteen years later when Kisuke calls him in to clean up the shopkeeper’s latest mess.

Shinji spends every single one of those sixteen years wondering if perhaps they – all of them, the entire useless lot of them – don’t deserve to die after all if they need a child to win their freedom for them.

 

* * *

 

Soul Society enthusiastically calls Ichigo a hero.  The Gotei 13 very pointedly does not call him a martyr.

Shinji calls him an idiot, and he isn’t afraid to say it to the kid’s face either, one calm, clear-skied, winter evening on Kuukaku’s rooftop with a bottle of sake between them.

Ichigo looks at him with too-old eyes and a cynical edge to his smirk, much quieter now that he has no one around to scowl and argue and banter for, and he says, “Yeah, I kinda am, aren’t I?”

Shinji snorts and tops up Ichigo’s half-empty cup.

 

* * *

 

When Ichigo first arrives at the warehouse, Shinji considers killing him regardless of the outcome of his struggle with his inner Hollow.  The others – for all their threats and insults – don’t actually want to kill the boy because they need him later, but they’ll follow Shinji’s lead if he thinks it’s best to execute the brat anyway.

In the end, Ichigo comes out on top, as expected, and Shinji doesn’t kill him, and they welcome him into their fold.

Shinji still wonders if it was Ichigo’s success or Shinji’s own cowardice that stayed his hand.

It certainly wasn’t mercy.

 

* * *

 

The Shinigami chatter and laugh and toast their triumphs in the aftermath of the war.  They slap Ichigo on the back and smile at him with admiration and gratitude and let him wander between the human and spiritual worlds and from compound to compound like the welcomed guest he is.

Shinji is the only one who sees the kid rub at his eyes more and more often.  He’s the only one who doesn’t pretend not to notice the agitated spike of reiatsu at night in the Shiba household whenever Ichigo has yet another nightmare.  He’s the only one who hears the lie when Ichigo says _see you next week_ as he leaves Soul Society for the last time.

That’s Shinji’s cue to put a few final affairs in order before slipping off back to the Human World as well.

 

* * *

 

Once, a little before Ichigo runs off to Hueco Mundo, to save Inoue, to protect his friends, to fight a war he shouldn’t have to, Shinji asks him, “Aren’t ya scared?”

The kid just looks at him and frowns a bit more than usual around a mouthful of rice.  They’re eating dinner after a training session ran late so it’s just the two of them.

“Huh?  ’Bou’ what?”

Shinji waves his chopsticks in the air.  “All this.  You’re a kid; shouldn’t ya be scared ’bout goin’ up against Aizen?  Ya’ve already had a taste of how strong he is.  Ya should know how bad the odds are.”

Ichigo bristles, pride affronted like the brat he still is, but then, to Shinji’s surprise, he deflates almost as quickly, leaving only an even deeper than usual scowl behind, one that furrows his brow and narrows his eyes.  His gaze drops to his dinner for a long minute, and then he glances back up again, and his chin lifts in that defiant angle that’s becoming increasingly familiar to Shinji.

“Well _obviously_ ,” Ichigo huffs like some sort of offended cat, underscored by a current of barely detectable anxiety.  “But it’s not like I can just _not_ fight, right?  Aizen’s sending people after me and my friends, and Rukia and Renji _have_ to fight ’cause they’re idiots and they sold their souls to the Gotei 13-”

Shinji snorts, and a brief, wry smile flits at one corner of Ichigo’s mouth.

“-so I can’t just… bury my head in the sand, go back to school, and pretend nothing’s gonna happen.  Besides,” He shoots Shinji an accusatory look.  “ _You’re_ scared too.  You and the other Visored, Urahara-san and his people, all the Shinigami – you’re all just as scared as I am so none of you have a leg to stand on.”

Shinji stills.  The tips of his chopsticks click against his rice bowl when his wrist goes lax.

Ichigo eyes him for a moment longer before nodding like he’s proven something, and then he returns to his meal.

Shinji watches the boy start on his portion of the fish before slowly going back to his own again.  He forgets, sometimes, how astonishingly perceptive this kid can be.  “…Nah, I guess we don’t.”

Ichigo flicks a suspicious look at him but doesn’t say anything.

They’re almost finished when Shinji enquires, perhaps out of some morbid sense of curiosity, “Then what if ya didn’t have ta fight?  What if your friends were all safe from Aizen and ya could just sit this war out?”

This time, Ichigo pins him with a flat, unmistakeable _are you really that stupid_ look.  “I can’t do that.”

Shinji persists, perplexed.  “Why not?”

Now Ichigo just looks confused but also about two hundred percent done with this conversation.  “Because it wouldn’t be right.”

Shinji stares.

Ichigo rolls his eyes and grabs his tea.  “For god’s sakes, it’s not rocket science.  I can do something about this war.  I have the… the _power_ to help stop some crazy nutjob from taking over the world and killing a whole bunch of people.  Isn’t that more than enough of a reason to fight?”

...Ah.

Someone, Shinji thinks with something like hot simmering rage building in his gut, has taught this boy _responsibility_ , has taught him _duty_ , has taught him _obligation_ , and has made him _understand_ it, and it is – unexpectedly – a terrible thing to witness in someone still so young.

Shinji recalls dead mothers and Hollows and little nine-year-old boys forced to grow up too fast, picking up the slack that a good-for-nothing father leaves him and raising two even younger children on his own, all the while thinking _my fault_ because nobody considers it necessary to sit him down and explain to him about monsters and Aizen and a world that only loves you when you’re useful.

But Ichigo doesn’t know any of that, and it’s far too late anyway, to tell him he owes them nothing no matter what was decided before he was even born, because Ichigo isn’t the type of person to turn his back on those in need.

Ichigo doesn’t realize it, and he won’t realize it for a long time to come because Shinji can never quite bring himself to tell him until decades down the road, but in that moment, in a dimly lit kitchen at twelve past midnight, he cements Shinji’s loyalty to him once and for all.

(Later, when the Visored assemble and take to the battlefield, Shinji tells the Captain-Commander, “We are Ichigo’s allies, not yours.”

It is one of the truest things that has ever left his mouth.)

 

* * *

 

The day Ichigo finally loses the last of his Shinigami powers, Shinji gives himself two months.  He isn’t idle in those two months.  First of all, he has to make sure those that have been under his care for the past hundred years will continue to be alright without him around to herd them, especially once the offers start coming.

It’s to be expected.  There are three squads currently without a captain, and Shinji’s heard that any attempts at replacing them ever since Aizen and his two lackeys deserted have all been met with coups or rebellions of some sort because they’ve all had grudges against the Gotei 13.

Shinji had a good long laugh over that one.

So it’s not much of a surprise for the Captain-Commander to send out an offer to most of the Visored – all former captains or lieutenants – for them to be reinstated in their previous positions now that they’ve been given full pardons, effective immediately should they accept, and it’s even less of a surprise when Shinji’s misfit family scoff and complain and throw things but all ultimately give it serious consideration.

Shinji doesn’t begrudge them for it.  For all of them, Seireitei was home, and it still is a home, even after the government turned on them all those years ago.  They’ll never trust those in authority again but to _go_ _back_ and _have a purpose_ again, in a place where they’ve all spent a good chunk of their lives in is… tempting.  So very tempting, something all of them have secretly longed for at one point or another no matter how vehemently they pretend otherwise, and now that they _can_ , and as Visored to boot, as the monsters Soul Society once spurned over a century ago but now pin their hopes on, well, it’s a triumph in and of itself.

Kensei makes up his mind first, mostly because he takes one look at Hisagi – at the tattoo on his face, at the desperation in his eyes and the dark bags under them, at the utter willingness to kneel and pledge and serve if only Kensei would give him a _chance_ and not throw him away the way Tousen did – and he stews for five days before folding like a house of cards.  And where Kensei goes, so too does Mashiro.

That’s two down.

Rose also goes back, and also because of the lieutenant left behind in the traitors’ wake.  Kira is plain and frail-looking, and he’s brittle around the edges like cracked glass just waiting to shatter with a single touch, but also too, there is steel in him that looks Rose straight in the eye – respectful but firm – and tells him in no uncertain terms that if he deserts the way _Ichimaru-taichou_ did, there better be a hell of a better reason than power and a madman.

That startles a laugh out of Shinji too.

Rose goes, so obviously, Love goes too, even though he’s willing to let Komamura keep the Seventh.  Shinji isn’t sure how that’s going to work out but he suspects the Captain-Commander will accept two captains for the Third or no captain at all, and that’s not a choice at all.

Lisa.  Well.  She goes back.  Of course she does.  Lisa’s never stopped caring about Kyouraku, and that’s what made it hurt all the more over the years.  And Kyouraku loves her like some weird amalgamation of sister, mother, and dear friend all rolled into one.  Shinji’s almost one hundred percent sure that if there’s ever an Unfair Exile Take Two, Kyouraku won’t just stand by and let it happen again, not if his lieutenant is one of the accused.  Nanao is happy to step aside; she’s always looked up to Lisa, from what Shinji remembers.

That’s five.

Hiyori and Hachi don’t go back.  Their positions are both already occupied anyway so they aren’t needed the way the others are, and it shows when their invitations to return are more general than the specific assignments that the others received.  Besides, Hachi’s own (former) captain refuses to leave Kisuke or Yoruichi, and Hiyori has nothing to return to when even her (also former) captain remains in the Human World.  Both of them move out of the warehouse and into the Urahara Shouten, and if nothing else, Shinji knows Kisuke’s guilt will ensure their wellbeing.

So.  That’s seven.

And Shinji is eight.

He’s boxing up the last of his belongings at the warehouse when he feels the telltale flutter at the edge of his senses of the opening of a Senkaimon, and he recognizes the reiatsu signature of the one who steps through easily enough.

“Kyouraku,” Shinji straightens and turns to meet the pink-clad Shinigami, smile already sharp on his face.  “I figured the old man would probably send ya.  Or Ukitake.”

“Juu-chan’s sick again, I’m afraid,” Kyouraku reveals lightly, glancing lazily around the warehouse before focusing on Shinji.  “So I’m stuck playing messenger today.”

“Hm,” Shinji nudges two boxes together with one foot.  “Well then, I’ll spare ya the time and trouble.  My answer is no, have a good day, don’t let the door hit ya on your way out.”

Kyouraku chuckles, but the sound is oddly hollow without the perpetual laidback amusement.  “Not even going to let me get a speech in?”

“Don’t wanna hear it,” Shinji shrugs, slinging a bag over his shoulder before stacking the boxes on top of each other.  “Don’t _need_ ta hear it.  Whatever ya have ta say isn’t gonna change my mind.”

The captain – predictably – carries on doggedly.  The old man wouldn’t have sent him in the first place if he can’t even deliver a proper sales pitch.  “Maa, don’t be so hasty.  You have your pardon either way of course-”

“ _Pardon_ ,” Shinji sneers.  “Like _we_ were the ones who did somethin’ wrong.”

Kyouraku tilts his sakkat with something like acknowledgement even though his calm expression doesn’t change.  “The Fifth will be yours again if you want it, no jumping through hoops, no questions asked.  I believe Hinamori Momo-chan is currently the lieutenant but… well, her mental state is rather… fragile these days, ever since Aizen’s betrayal, and Retsu-chan herself has ordered her on light duty only, so if you want to bring along someone you’re more familiar with-”

“Hiyori’s fine with stayin’ at Kisuke’s place,” Shinji cuts him off tersely.  “She doesn’t hate him nearly as much as she likes ta pretend she does.  I’m not goin’ back, Kyouraku.  I have better things ta do than mop up the messes ya Shinigami are always leavin’ behind.”

Kyouraku cocks his head, looking thoughtful.  “Like what?”

Shinji snorts.  He scans his surroundings one last time before looking back at the Eighth Division Captain again, and this time, he takes three steps forward so that they’re within a foot of each other.  One of his hands drops to rest with deceptive lightness on the folded haori that Kyouraku is holding.

Kyouraku meets his gaze evenly, unblinking.

“Unlike the Gotei 13,” Shinji’s lip curls, his voice low and hard and uncharacteristically cold.  “I always pay my dues.  This here-” His grip tightens on the white uniform, the kanji for five glaring back up at him like an accusation.  “As far as I’m concerned, if I put this on again, it won't ever be anythin' but a mark o’ shame.  Ya wanna pretend this war ended ’cause the Gotei 13 won?  Ya wanna pretend that Aizen didn’t kill us all ’cause the Shinigami came out on top?  Fine, go ahead.  But leave me outta your delusions of grandeur.  I got reparations ta make.”

Only when Kyouraku glances away first, chin dipping so that his sakkat casts a shadow over his eyes, does Shinji finally step away, hand falling from the haori as he turns around to pick up his boxes.

“I thought ya’d finally changed,” Shinji remarks, returning to more offhand tones again.  “I thought Ichigo’d managed the impossible and finally got the lot o’ ya ta pull the sticks outta your collective asses.  But you’re all still the same, still sweepin’ everythin’ under the rug an’ stickin’ your heads in the clouds and lettin’ other people take the fall for ya.  In the end, none of ya have changed at all.”

“Shinji-”

He juggles all three boxes in his arms and catches the storm grey of Kyouraku’s eyes once more.  “I don’t give a shit anymore that ya an’ all the others turned a blind eye ta that clusterfuck a century ago.  I don’t care how many clusterfucks ya’ve turned a blind eye ta ever since.  But I’ll be damned if I let ya do it again this time.”

For a long moment, they both stare at each other, Shinji flinty-eyed while Kyouraku frowns, just a little.  And then the captain sighs, sounding more tired than anything else, and his voice is rueful and subdued when he speaks.

“Well, I did warn Yama-jii that you would probably say no,” Kyouraku shrugs and takes a step back.  “I’ll give him your answer.”  He pauses, and then adds quietly, “Look after him.”

Shinji scoffs, sweeping his way past his old friend.  “That’s the last thing I wanna hear from ya.  Or anyone else for that matter.  Jus’ look out for Lisa and the others; anybody screws even just one of us over again and mark my words, the next war I’ll be enterin’ will be against the Gotei 13.”

He doesn’t say goodbye.  He takes off with a swift Shunpo as soon as he’s outside, and he doesn’t look back to watch Kyouraku leave.

Fucking Shinigami.  Even just a century later, Shinji having been one of them once upon a time is a hard pill to swallow.

 

* * *

 

“Kisuke.”

“I have one ready for you here, Shinji-san.”

“…In all the years I’ve known ya, I still can’t figure out how someone can be so smart and yet so goddamn stupid at the same time.”

“…”

“You’re a fuckin’ coward, Kisuke.  Aren’t ya sick of feelin’ guilty yet?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Please leave a review on your way out.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not quite "tomorrow" yet but whatever, here's the next chapter. Thank you for all the comments! I was actually kinda surprised to see the positive reception for this since as far as I know, Shinji/Ichigo in any capacity isn't really that popular in the Bleach fandom? Or at least there aren't that many fics for it.

 

Shinji purchases a suite on the top floor of an apartment building with a good view of most of Karakura.  It’s a spacious place, with more than enough room for two people.

And then he goes and hunts down Ichigo.

It’s a lot harder now that the kid’s not leaking reiatsu like a running faucet.

But Ichigo’s supposed to be in school right now so that’s where Shinji goes.  Except, as it turns out, Ichigo’s not at school.

His friends are though, the weaker not-so-normal ones _and_ the stronger even-more-not-so-normal ones.  Shinji finds them on the roof having lunch, and no matter how strong half of them have grown since before the war, it’s still several centuries too early for any of them to be able to sense him when he doesn’t want them to.

And Shinji has no qualms about eavesdropping.

“-be here?”

“His dad said we should give him some space, so he can have a clean break from the Shinigami.  He came around to talk to all of us, right?”

“Well yes, but still, Kurosaki-kun must be feeling… upset; he must have noticed the way we always stop talking when we see him.”

“Well we were talking about yesterday’s Hollow attack, and he can’t see them anymore, and it’s hardly polite to-”

“I just don’t like it.”

“Me neither.”

“…If the moron keeps skipping school, we’ll try a different way.  But his dad gets first say, right?”

“ _You_ of all people think that’s a good idea?”

“Just because my relationship with Ryuuken is bad doesn’t mean Kurosaki’s is-”

“Ichigo practically _raised_ his sisters single-handedly.”

“…”

“We’ll wait and see.  Maybe he just needs some time to adjust.”

Shinji shunpos away.  He’s heard enough.  And it’s- If he has any less control than he does, and if that bullshit he just overheard came from anyone other than mere teenaged _brats_ (and therefore automatic morons), he might actually destroy something out of sheer frustration and possibly more than a little rage.  As it is, he’s tempted to let his Hollow out to play anyway.

If nothing else, Isshin would deserve it.

Goddamn it, how could _anybody_ think it would be a good idea to leave _Kurosaki Ichigo_ alone?  Ichigo _sucks_ at being alone.  He is absolutely _shitty_ at it.  The kid likes sitting in silence sometimes, he enjoys quiet company more than you’d expect if you don’t really know him, and he’s always almost comically relieved to catch a break from the utter fucking chaos that his circus of a life seems to constantly pitch him headfirst into, but he isn’t made to be _alone_.  That’s practically the whole point of his damnable protector complex.

Shinji heaves a sigh, rakes a hand through his hair, and then sets out to find Ichigo.  Karakura is a small town but it might as well be Tokyo when Shinji’s trying to track down one guy with no reiatsu and who probably doesn’t even want to be found right now.

Fortunately, Shinji knows Ichigo pretty well.

It takes him a little over an hour.  He swings by the Kurosaki household, the library, the local bookstore, the coffee shop at the corner that Ichigo once mentioned sold his favourite mocha.  He lurks around the twins’ school just long enough to make sure Ichigo isn’t around, then slips away to power through Kisuke’s shop on the unlikely off-chance Ichigo visited.

His last stop is the cemetery, and the moment Shinji gets there, he knows where Ichigo is.

 

* * *

 

The orange hair is unmistakeable even from the top of the riverbank.  Shinji studies the lithe profile for a long moment.  Ichigo really does take after his mother’s side of the family.  There’s nothing weak about the kid – even now – but he just doesn’t have the broad bulk of a Shiba, favouring a subtler muscle build and bone structure instead.  On occasion, in certain lights, he’s more pretty than handsome, and – more recently – something about the way he moves reminds Shinji of the elegant, effortless lope of a particularly large predator, like a wolf stalking its prey.

He gives it a minute, and when Ichigo remains motionless and staring out across the river, Shinji makes his way down the grassy bank and meanders over to stand next to the teen.

Ichigo doesn’t so much as twitch.  Shinji doesn’t interrupt.

It takes approximately eight minutes for the defeated slouch of Ichigo’s shoulders to ebb, at least enough for him to straighten up a bit and turn to blink sluggishly at Shinji.

His eyes are emptier than Shinji’s ever seen them.

“...Shinji?”  He blinks again, a bit like he’s not sure if what – or who, in this case – he’s seeing is real.

“Yo,” Shinji pins him with a mock-reproachful look.  “Didn’ anyone ever tell ya good students don’t play truant?”

Another slow blink.  “No.”

Well, all things considered, Shinji supposes no one would.

“Are you-” Ichigo shakes his head, a jerky little movement that makes his hair flop into his eyes for a moment.  It’s getting a bit long.  Then again, who has time for a haircut when they’re angsting about losing part of their soul?  “You’re in a gigai.”

“Yup,” Shinji rolls his shoulders in an easy shrug.  “Got it from Kisuke.  Best one he could make.  I can use my reiatsu and access my Zanpakutou without stepping out of it.”

“Right,” Somehow, the light in his eyes go even dimmer.  “You don’t have to.  I mean-”

“If I wanna wander ’round the human world wearin’ a gigai, then that’s what I’m gonna do,” Shinji cuts him off sharply.  “And ya got no say in it, ya hear me?”

This at least brings a flicker of life back into Ichigo’s eyes, even if it’s slow to come.

Shinji heaves a sigh.  “Look, far be it from me ta tell ya what ta do, and I skipped my fair share o’ classes back in the day too, but you’re skivin’ off school ta mope beside a river, and any way ya look at it, that’s just sad.”

Ichigo, bless his heart, finally scowls at him.  “I can skip class now and then.  I’m in the top twenty in my grade anyway.”

Shinji scoffs.  “I graduated top three of mine.  Match that and then we’ll talk.”

Ichigo’s frown deepens, and for a split second, it seems as if he’s about to snap something indignantly sarcastic right back, but then the spark fades, and Shinji is left looking at a shadow of the man he knows.

“I can’t,” Ichigo elaborates carefully after a tense moment, and he’s looking out at the river again.  “I can’t _stand_ the _pity_.”

Shinji sighs again.  “Yeah, I kinda figured that much.”  He pauses and then takes a gamble.  "But honestly, you're about ten kinds o' pitiful right now."

And just like that, Ichigo's head snaps around again, a blistering glare already narrowing his eyes, shoulders dropping and pulling back, spine stiffening, and his entire frame draws itself up to its full height, an inch shorter than Shinji but the sheer immensity of his presence – always such a force of nature, even without his reiatsu – more than makes up for it, and Shinji  _grins_.

"I'm _not-_ " Ichigo begins to snarl, only to falter when he catches sight of Shinji's expression, and all at once, it leaves him floundering, gaping as realization catches up to him, and then he scowls, irritated and with so much _Shinji you manipulative bastard I'm gonna kill you_ , that it's actually startling for Shinji to realize how much he's missed this.

Missed the steel and fire that have always underscored everything Ichigo does.

"You're a bastard," Ichigo huffs flatly.

"Is that supposed ta be news?"  Shinji counters rhetorically.  "It's good ta see ya haven't sulked your way inta depression yet at least."

"I'm not sulking!"  Ichigo sulks, hands shoving into his pockets for emphasis.

Shinji rolls his eyes but his mirth fades, and the subsequent gaze he levels on Ichigo – as cold and unforgiving and endlessly indifferent as the desert night skies that Sakanade dwells under – is the same one that he once pulled out when he was telling a brash, belligerent teenager that he would kill him if the boy couldn't overcome his inner Hollow.

Ichigo freezes.

"Ya can be stupidly single-minded when ya start obsessin' over somethin'," Shinji tells him with a contained sort of frankness.  "And sometimes, that's a good thing, but other times, it just makes ya an idiot.  This is one of those other times so I'll give ya a clue ta help ya along – _stop broodin'_  over all the things ya've lost, and start lookin' at all the things _ya still have_.  So ya've lost your powers.  Ya've lost Zangetsu.  Ya've practically lost a part o' your _soul_.  It sucks.  It probably even  _hurts_.  But it ain't the end o’ the world, even if it might feel like it right now."

Ichigo... just sort of stares back, and there's something shaken and raw in his expression, wide-eyed and still so very young in a way that most people overlook because all they see is the hero of Soul Society.

They forget he's also a sixteen-year-old boy who's lived through things that some Shinigami ten, twenty, even thirty times his age have yet to even see.

Shinji softens, stepping back into something less confrontational.  "You're still alive, Ichigo.  Death's an inevitability, so sooner or later, when ya die, you'll see Zangetsu again.  But right now, ya still got a long life ahead o' ya.  Maybe instead of bein' in such a hurry ta get it over with, ya should be askin' yourself – what the hell do ya wanna do with it?"

A thick silence falls between them, interrupted only by the rush of the river beside them.

Shinji says no more, studying the teen for a moment longer before averting his gaze to the opposite bank, giving Ichigo time to gather his thoughts.  It's overcast today, all the clouds threatening to rain.

"It's not-" Ichigo starts, and then stops, swallowing hard.  Shinji glances back at him, raising his eyebrows in encouragement.  Ichigo scrubs a hand through his hair, grimacing.  "It's not that I'm in a hurry to- to 'get it over with'.  I mean, I can't hear or feel Zangetsu anymore.  And I even miss my damn Hollow, and that's really saying something."

Shinji acknowledges this with a mental wince.  That's one thing he can't imagine ever feeling, and he's grateful for it.  Even after he was Hollowfied, Sakanade was still with him.  Tougher to work beside, having a darker entity to contend with as well, but at least she was always there.

"But I'll see them again, like you said," Ichigo continues haltingly, scuffing one shoe through dirt and grass.  "It's just... I lost my powers.  I didn't think I'd also be losing my friends."

His voice is nearly inaudible when he bites out that last sentence but Shinji hears him anyway.  And he has to suppress the sudden, violent urge to go kick some ass after all.

 _Honestly_.  Who the hell's bright idea was it to leave this kid alone?

Oh yeah, Isshin.  And the entirety of the Gotei 13.  The latter is a bit beyond Shinji's ass-kicking abilities, unfortunately.  The former however... Well, he can do the former.  It's just a matter of when and how.

"And what am I?  Roadkill?"  Shinji snaps, sounding a little crankier than he intended.

Ichigo blinks at him like he's really _seeing_  Shinji for the first time, and Shinji ticks an irked eyebrow in response.

Thanks a lot, kid. This does wonders for his ego.

"Oh, um," Ichigo rubs the back of his head, and now he looks embarrassed.  "I guess?  I just haven't seen you since the end of the war, and then... well I overheard Karin telling Yuzu-"

Something pained and worried flickers across his face, like it hurts in more ways than one to know that his own sisters are more involved with the spiritual world than he is.

Shinji bets it does, and it's not like Ichigo doesn't have the right, especially if those sisters of his are keeping it a secret from him too.

"-that most of the Visored have rejoined the Gotei 13," Ichigo continues with a shrug.  "I just assumed you would've taken over the Fifth again, since it's missing a captain too."

Shinji clicks his tongue in annoyance.  "They tried, but I told 'em where ta shove it.  And I had some business ta see to first; that's why I wasn't around earlier."

"But... you'll be around now?"  Ichigo asks, and his tone is cautious at best, thinly veiling the horribly vulnerable hope underneath.

Shinji cocks his head.  "Well, I did buy an apartment in town.  Even I don't know how many rooms Kisuke's shop has but I still prefer my own place.  It's a pretty nice apartment, rooftop patio, comes with a kitchen and everythin', even got two bedrooms."

He pauses.  Ichigo nods along and doesn't seem to be taking the hint.

"Two bedrooms," Shinji repeats because sometimes, with this kid, details take a few pointed slaps to the face before he'll actually get it.

Ichigo scratches his head.  "Yeah, you said."

Shinji sighs disparagingly.  "One of 'em's for  _you_  if ya want it, dumbass.  Anytime ya need a break from-" He waves a hand at the general present situation.  "-all this, or if ya want some place ta crash without havin' ta go home ta your crazy old man, or ya just need someone ta complain 'bout life in general to, you'll have somewhere ta go.  I'm not promisin' I won't mock your pain 'cause let's be real, I probably will at some point, but I've got two ears and no Hiyori screamin' inta them twenty-four/seven anymore.  Might as well put 'em ta use some other way."

He stops and scrutinizes Ichigo's stunned expression for a long moment.

"Is it really that surprisin'?"  He asks at last, in quieter tones.  "That I'd stick around?"

Ichigo flinches, just a little.  He scuffs a shoe against the grass, lips a thin slash across his face.  "...Nobody else ever has."

And isn't that just fucking tragic?

Shinji heaves a deep sigh.  "Alright, c'mon."

Ichigo blinks.  "What?  Where are we going?"

"Apartment," Shinji gestures for him to follow.  "Ya don't wanna go back ta school anyway, right?  Then ya might as well come take a look.  Start movin' some stuff in even, if ya want."

He counts to seven before he hears footsteps scramble after him.  He counts another thirteen before Ichigo ventures, "Shinji?"

"Hm?"

Ichigo doesn't actually say anything.  But he stops to buy them each an ice-cream crepe, and Shinji accepts his with a roll of his eyes.  He's never been one to say no to sweet things anyway.

 

* * *

 

When Ichigo moves in, he really moves in.  Shinji honestly doesn't mind; it's just that he thought he'd have more of a fight on his hands because Ichigo's definitely the type to say he's fine and he doesn't want to impose and all that other rubbish that would've given Shinji a headache.

But Ichigo is like a stray cat.  Over the course of the first two weeks, he pops up every time Shinji turns his back, cautious and unnaturally silent, and he loiters around for a few hours – on the couch, in his designated bedroom, on the porch – before slipping out again.  When all Shinji does is give him space and strike up random conversations and put food on the table whenever the kid arrives during mealtimes, Ichigo slowly relaxes his guard.  Shinji doesn't  _make_  him stay.  But he also gives the kid a key of his own so that Ichigo knows he’s always welcome.

After that, Ichigo starts coming around more and more until he's there every day, and more often than not stays the night, until he _is_ staying every night.  Every few days, he comes with a bag of clothes or a box of books or a duffel of his other belongings.  Shinji makes a point of not mentioning any of it, and soon, Ichigo's bedroom is... well, still neat – surprisingly neat for a teenager – but  _lived in_ , in a way that Shinji suspects the kid's bedroom back at the Kurosaki household no longer is.

If Ichigo's family notices his increasing absences, Ichigo doesn’t say, and Shinji doesn’t ask.

 

* * *

 

Ichigo asks about rent.  Shinji expected it so he has a ready answer.  "Once you're not a minor anymore and ya get a job, we can split the rent.  In the meantime, it's not like I'm short on money.  The others and I didn't  _just_  laze around in a warehouse all day for a century, ya know.  Not all of us anyway."

Ichigo nods thoughtfully, and Shinji – naively – thinks the issue closed.  A week later, Ichigo returns with three very thick, very suspicious rolls of cash.

"You're not shakin' people down for money, are ya?"  Shinji asks incredulously, gingerly picking up one of the rolls between forefinger and thumb like it's a bomb.

Ichigo gives him a look that... actually looks a little sheepish.  Shinji tosses the bills back onto the table and crosses his arms.  "Really?"

Ichigo shrugs, one hand coming up to rub the back of his neck, and his sleeve slips down to reveal unmistakeable bruises.  The kid quickly puts his arm back down but Shinji's already zeroed in on it, and he glares.  " _Really?_ "

"They were yakuza!"  Ichigo protests.  "And sometimes, I... do a few odd jobs for them.  Nothing really bad, just- sometimes, one group wants to dish out some revenge or whatever on another group without actually getting their hands dirty, and that's where I come in.  Then they pay me.  It's nothing new.  I've been doing it for years."

He winces like he didn't actually mean to say that last bit, especially when Shinji pins him with the flattest look he can physically manage.  "What the hell does that even mean?  You're sixteen!  Several years ago, ya weren't even outta diapers yet!"

Ichigo just squares his shoulders like he's preparing for war.  "I don't need Shinigami powers to fight.  I mean I've been doing martial arts since I was five.  I can handle a back-alley brawl or some sneaking around or whatever.  And... And after Mom died, sometimes... sometimes it was hard to make ends meet."  He stares at Shinji straight in the eye like he's daring Shinji to laugh at him or something.  "Look, Goat-Face was useless for a couple years after Mom was killed.  I mean he's still pretty useless, but back then, he was- he shut down the clinic for like, a year, and he didn't do anything except mope around and drink, okay?  And money doesn't grow on trees, and alcohol isn't cheap, especially the amount he was buying all the damn time.  Somebody needed to come up with the cash.  The girls were four and growing up, they needed new clothes and toys and books and stationary and a bunch of other stuff.  And we all needed food.  So yeah.  Even after Goat-Face started working again, I just- it was just better if I was in charge of making sure we had a steady income.  And if that meant I needed to go out and get my hands a bit dirty, then that's exactly what I did."

 _You got a fucking problem with that_  goes unspoken but Shinji hears it loud and clear anyway.  Which is something of a shock because there's also a faint ringing in his ears, coupled with Sakanade's guttural snarl, and it's a miracle he hears anything else at all.

"Okay," Shinji says, very calmly.  He doesn't know what his own face looks like in that moment but Ichigo goes still, and his defiant expression morphs into something like uncertain confusion instead.

"Okay," Shinji repeats.  "But ya don't need ta do that now."

Ichigo scowls.  "We're sharing an apartment.  I'm not gonna be some freeloader."

"You're also a minor, and I'm the one who invited ya ta live with me," Shinji retorts.  "Look, I'll accept this-" He raps his knuckles on the dinner table, next to the wads of cash.  "-'cause you're a stubborn bastard and I doubt ya'd keep it for yourself no matter what I say, but no more.  Not until you're at least eighteen.  And when ya do turn eighteen, ya don't go returnin' ta all that yakuza business.  I mean, if ya actually become a yakuza boss or somethin', if that's what ya want, then that's one thing.  But you're nobody's attack dog, d'ya get me, Ichigo?"

Ichigo sort of just... stares.  He keeps doing that, looking at Shinji like he's never clapped eyes on him before.

"But-" Ichigo gets out.

" _Ichigo_ ," Shinji cuts him off, glare sharpening, and Ichigo goes silent again, silent and looking almost lost.

"...So you're okay if I become a yakuza boss one day but you've got problems with me working  _for_  yakuza?"  Ichigo asks instead after a stilted minute of consideration.

Shinji shrugs.  "It's your life.  Live it the way ya want.  Just not under someone else's thumb."

A beat, two, and then, Ichigo smiles.  It's a faint, tiny thing, but it's the softest, most genuine one Shinji's ever seen on this boy's face.  It smooths out his brow and makes his eyes squint a bit, and Shinji doubts anyone else has ever seen it aside from his sisters and mother.

"Right," Ichigo nods, and then nods again like he has to do it twice to get his agreement across.  "I- Okay."

"Okay," Shinji echoes before nudging Ichigo towards the stove.  "Now go make dinner.  I'll be back in time ta eat."

"What?  But where are you going?"

Shinji's already heading down the hallway towards the door, pausing only to toe on his shoes.  "Jus’ got some business I've been meanin’ ta take care of for a while now, that's all."

 

* * *

 

For all that Kurosaki Isshin used to be Shiba Isshin, Clan Head and Shinigami captain, Shinji is still indisputably the stronger of the two.  For one, he was a captain longer.  He has far more experience.  For another, he's actually kept up with his training during his time in exile.  Isshin hasn't, partly because he hasn't been able to, and partly because he's an idiot who didn't bother getting back into top shape even after Masaki died.

But most of all, Shinji is the stronger of the two because he is  _so pissed off he's seeing red_.  And unlike most people who tend to let their anger affect them negatively, Shinji knows perfectly well how to hone his rage into a lethal weapon.

 

* * *

 

Ichigo's sisters aren't home, which is good.  Isshin  _is_  home, which is even better.  Shinji doesn't give him time to run or prepare or anything.  He just shunpos in, nabs the startled Shinigami, and shunpos back out, racing for Kisuke's shop.

He doesn't bother with the door.  He crashes straight through the roof, using Isshin as a shield, naturally, and then tosses the man into the training ground under the shop.

"Shinji-san?"  Kisuke looks faintly bemused behind his fan, although not particularly concerned about Isshin being thrown around.

Shinji smiles winningly at the shopkeeper.  "This won't take too long, Kisuke.  I got dinner waitin' on me."

And then he drops down into the training ground after Isshin.

He wasn't lying.  It doesn't take long.  Isshin has already flipped back onto his feet, but he only manages to splutter out, "Hirako, what-" and then Shinji is on him, punting him straight into the side of a cliff even as he unseals Sakanade.

He grins when the dust clears and Isshin – much warier this time – clambers to his feet again with Engetsu in hand.

Shinji tips an even wider grin at him that’s all teeth and not even remotely friendly.  "I've been meanin' ta get around ta kickin' your ass, Shiba.  I just haven't had the time."

Isshin glowers, slapping a bit of dirt from his clothes.  "What's this about, Hirako?  I don't remember doing anything to you."

Shinji scoffs out a mirthless bark of laughter.  "Ya haven't.  But ya've done plenty ta your son.  It's an awfully long list."

Isshin looks taken aback for all of a second before his expression closes into something mulish and annoyed.  "Is this about Ichigo not having any contact with the spiritual world?  It's the kinder thing to do, Hirako.  Cutting ties now is better than dragging it out.  I'm doing it for his own good so you had better-  _gurk-_ "

In the span of half a blink, Shinji flashes forward, blurring into existence again less than a foot in front of Isshin, and before the man can react, he lashes out once more and sends the Shinigami flying.  The resulting impact is music to his ears.

"I better  _what_ , Shiba?"  Shinji hisses, stalking after his prey.  "Or else  _what?_   What threat d'ya think is gonna work here?"  He watches dispassionately as Isshin picks himself out of the crater.  "You're nowhere near strong enough ta fuck around with me, Isshin."

Isshin coughs, anger darkening his expression.  "This has nothing to do with you.  Ichigo is  _my_  son, not yours."

Shinji snorts.  "I certainly ain't layin' claim on him as his  _father_.  But he's mine, all the same.  He was mine the moment ya and Kisuke put his life in my hands."  He levels a sardonic look on the other man.  "On the other hand, ya can claim a blood relation but that's about it.  As far as I'm aware, ya've never been much of a father at all."

Isshin goes red, and he rears back with righteous affront.  It grates on Shinji's nerves.

"I love my children-"

Shinji lunges, and this time, Isshin just manages to get his sword up in time to block Sakanade.

"Not enough," Shinji condemns softly even as their blades clang together with violent intent.  "Nowhere near enough.  I've been hearin' things, ya know.  Seein' things for myself too.  I can put the pieces together.  Ya drank your days away for a good long while after Masaki died; where do ya think the money kept coming from when ya stopped working?  And ya've lied ta your kids their entire lives, and then ya actively encouraged Ichigo ta rip out a chunk of his own soul.  I didn’t know that bit, ya know.  I just thought ya were gonna train ’im properly, before ya threw him at Aizen again.  But I really shoulda guessed.  And you’re not even sorry about it.  Ya just laughed about it afterwards.  O’ course ya did.  He’s never been your son."

He pauses long enough to dodge a furious string of slashes before slipping through the assault and almost beheading Isshin, pulling Sakanade back just enough so that the tip of his blade only slices a shallow line across the Shinigami's throat.

"Have they ever come ta ya for anythin'?"  Shinji continues ruthlessly.  "The girls, maybe, although I doubt it.  But Ichigo?  Ya kicked 'im around like a soccer ball.  For trainin', Kisuke told me.  But how much of it was for trainin', Shiba?  He was a kid.  In some ways, he's still a kid."

Isshin shunpos out of striking distance, panting lightly but glaring.  "I was teaching him how to survive.  I never saw you stepping in, if you thought it was so wrong."

"Mm, I regret it," Shinji acknowledges easily.  "But like ya said, _he ain’t my son_. And ya know, he was just some kid back then.  Your kid.  Masaki's kid.  And I liked Masaki well enough but I didn' really know her.  And _you_ , I don't even like.  And your kid – he was just the sacrificial lamb we were gonna chuck at Aizen.  Ya and Kisuke were plannin' his role as the Shinigami’s whipping boy and weapon before he was even born."  His eyes narrow.  "Honestly, I didn' wanna get ta know him.  But then ya gave him ta me, and he survived his Hollow, and he walked inta a war against a madman with both eyes wide open, and I didn' have a choice.  Because that boy, that sacrificial lamb, he grew up inta a better man than most men I've met in my lifetime.  Certainly a better man than _you_."

He disappears then in a rush of speed, and Isshin raises Engetsu once more to deflect the blow, but Shinji simply ducks around him, and on his way past, he gouges another laceration into Isshin's hip, tearing through cloth and flesh and scraping metal straight into the bone.

Isshin lets out a strangled scream, abruptly cut off as he wrenches away from Shinji and retreats.

Shinji doesn't let him.

"Ya have _no right_ ta interfere with his life!"  Shinji snarls now, hints of his Hollow echoing in his voice even as he storms after the backpedaling Shinigami.  "Ya never had that right ta begin with!"

After that, there's no more talking.  Shinji flings him around and stabs him a few more times, nothing fatal, with treatment, and he doesn't actually stop until he has Isshin whimpering on the ground, exhausted and bloodied and defeated, and more or less terrified for his life.

Shinji's always been the petty sort when he doesn't actively curb the tendency so he kicks the man in the ribs one last time, brutally jarring the broken bones, before finally sealing Sakanade.

He glances down at his own clothes.  There are a few rips here and there, and a few cuts and bruises, nothing a hot shower and some sleep and a couple days won’t fix, but he's also coated in a thin layer of dust.  This place always kicks up so much of it.

He looks down at Isshin.  "I'm pretty sure ya haven't noticed so I'll give ya a heads-up – Ichigo's moved outta your house.  For good, if I have anythin' ta say about it.  Don't butt inta his life again unless he goes ta ya first.  That includes goin' around ta all his friends an' tellin' 'em ta cut Ichigo outta their lives – don’t fuckin’ argue semantics with me; whatever ya told 'em amounts ta the same damn thing – although if they all listened ta ya, Ichigo can do better than them anyway."  He looms closer, vindictively satisfied when Isshin shrinks away, just a bit.  "I hope I've made myself crystal clear.  Otherwise, I'm gonna kick your ass again, and next time, I ain't gonna be so nice about it."

He straightens, turns, and shunpos away, back towards the trapdoor.

That's that then.  He's said his piece, and he's gotten his pound of flesh because the Soul King knows Ichigo's not gonna do it, if only because of his sisters.  But in Shinji's opinion, the kid shouldn't have to do it anyway.  For once,  _someone_  should do the protecting when it's Ichigo who needs it, and Shinji... well, he was a captain, once.  Protecting his people was one of his duties.

These days, he's not a captain anymore.  But protecting Ichigo goes without saying.

 

* * *

 

Shinji wonders, briefly, if he should sneak in and clean up a bit first, but he discards the idea soon enough when he spots Ichigo on the porch, evidently waiting for him.

He lands on the railing.  He knows Ichigo can tell he’s been in a fight.  The kid can probably guess who he was fighting too.  But to his mild surprise, Ichigo doesn’t demand answers, just eyes him up and down a bit critically before sighing and stepping back to let Shinji inside.  “Go take a shower.  Food’s just about done so it’ll be ready when you get out.”

That night’s dinner consists of some of Shinji’s favourite foods.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Please leave a review on your way out.**


	3. Chapter 3

 

They mesh well together.  They have similar living habits, neither of them too neat or too messy, too loud or too quiet.  They both like to cook, and they can cook well, so they take turns making meals each week.  They split the chores, from vacuuming to grocery runs, and they spare the time to book a hall in the local dojo for regular spars.  Shinji has to take out the superhuman abilities in his fighting style, but that’s easy enough to do, and sometimes, he pushes anyway, moving just a bit faster, hitting just a bit harder, and it’s always gratifying to see the way Ichigo can adjust and keep up.

Sometimes, he even thinks he feels a flicker of Ichigo’s reiatsu brush against his senses, but when he tries actively searching for it, he can never locate even a spark of it, so he doesn’t bring it up.

They settle comfortably into each other’s lives.  Ichigo’s a lot easier and far less headache-inducing to live with than the other Visored were.  For all that they became some of Shinji’s closest friends, an eclectic family brought together by circumstance, their personalities and tempers clashed too much on a day-to-day basis, and it always chased Shinji out the door and away for a few days for some alone time.

Ichigo – thankfully – isn’t like that.  They argue, sometimes about the goddamn socks Ichigo leaves _beside_ the hamper instead of _in_ it – _Why??_   _It’s right fucking there!_ – and other times about Shinji’s _godawful taste in music don’t you have anything from this century fucking turn it off goddamn it it’s been four hours of nonstop shamisen!!_   But it’s never anything either of them stays mad about for more than a few minutes, never anything that might chase Shinji away from their apartment for days on end or see Ichigo disappear back to his childhood home.

Ichigo never goes back there anymore.

But about a month after Shinji stomped Isshin into the ground, and almost two months since Ichigo took up permanent residence in their apartment, the twins appear at their door, one of them – Yuzu – clutching a piece of paper with their address on it and looking anxious as heck, and the other – Karin – glaring and bristling with anger and doing all the talking when Shinji opens the door but no less nervous than her sister under her tough exterior.

“We want to see Ichi-nii,” Karin announces brashly.  “He’s _our_ brother so you can’t keep him from us!”

Shinji just arches an eyebrow.  “I ain’t keepin’ ya from him.  It’s not my fault if he doesn’t wanna see y- ow!”

He yelps when a hand smacks him over the head, and Ichigo appears at his shoulder, scowling at him.  “I don’t care what you do to Goat-Face but don’t pick on my sisters.”

Shinji huffs and rolls his eyes.  He wasn’t going to _pick_ _on them_.  Much.  Just a little to make them feel a bit guilty for needing an entire _two months_ to finally notice that their brother hasn’t been around.

He disappears back into the suite to let Ichigo handle his sisters, but he lingers in the kitchen, close enough to eavesdrop shamelessly on the conversation even as he busies himself with fetching a glass of water.  The first thing he hears is not encouraging.

“Ichi-nii!  Goat-Face has been saying that some guy’s forcing you to live with him!”

Shinji very carefully does not shatter the glass in his hands.  Normally, the shit Isshin spews would be funny.  Actually no, it’s _never_ been funny.  But at least mock-worthy.  And now it’s just downright irritating.

“What?”  Even without seeing Ichigo’s face, Shinji can hear the glower.  “Shinji hasn’t forced me into anything!  We’re friends!  And I _decided_ to move in with him when he offered!”

“Are you sure, Onii-chan?  Whenever we asked, Otou-san kept saying the person you were living with was corrupting you.”

“Corrupt-?  Of course I’m sure!  Shinji’s- Look, he’s one of my friends.  We fought in the war together and everything.”

“Well, we know that.  Goat-Face says he’s a Shinigami.”

“Technically, he’s a Visored.”

“Oh.  So he’s not like Rukia-san and the others?”

“Right.  And… I haven’t really seen any Shinigami lately anyway.  I mean, not that I can but-”

“Well that’s what we mean, Ichi-nii!  The Shinigami just abandoned you after you won a war for them!  Even that _bastard_ shopkeeper-”

“Karin!”

“You agree with me, Yuzu.  Anyway, me and Yuzu, we’ve been going over to the shop a lot ever since Goat-Face took us over there the first time and introduced us.  We wanted to see if we could get some information for you, keep you up to date about what’s going on in the spirit world and stuff ’cause people talk around us like we’re not even there or like we’re deaf or something.  But then you started avoiding the house more often until you weren’t there at all, and at first, we thought you were just staying at a friend’s house or something.  But we noticed how Chad-san and Inoue-san and Ishida-san and some others all kept going over to the shop all the time, without you, so we got suspicious, and we could never catch you leaving school, so we asked Goat-Face instead.  It took a while to get it out of him but he finally told us you’d moved out, and you were living with some weirdo Shinigami who was forcing you to-”

“Okay, okay, I get it.  Well, he lied.  Or twisted the truth, I guess.  Shinji’s not forcing me into anything.  …He’s the only one who stuck around actually.”

“…That’s good then, right, Onii-chan?  I mean, not good that Otou-san lied to us-”

“I’m so gonna kick his ass for that-”

“Karin, stop it.  You’re happy here then, Onii-chan?  Because- Because I don’t think you were very happy living with us anymore.”

“Hey.  Hey, look at me, both of you.  I am always happy when you two are around, alright?  I just- I needed some space.  And I didn’t know you guys were playing spies over at the shop.  I thought you were being pulled into all that Shinigami stuff like I was, and I wouldn’t even be able to protect you anymore.  Which, you know, you can stop, okay?  I… I’ve been doing some thinking about my life, and I think I’ll be okay without getting into Shinigami messes all the time.  I don’t need you two bringing me updates or anything.  I want to… concentrate on the living for a while, you know?  And you two should as well.  You’ve got long lives ahead of you, so.  Promise me.”

Shinji hears a rustle of clothing and guesses that the three Kurosaki children are sharing hugs now.  He disappears down the hall, giving them some real privacy this time.  He doubts Ichigo gave their address to Isshin so the twins must’ve gotten it from Kisuke.  Of course, nobody told him either but Shinji’s used to Kisuke knowing most everything he has no business knowing.

That meddling scientist.  Then again, he supposes if it’s Ichigo’s sisters in question, then it’s alright, but if Kisuke gives out their address to anyone else when it isn’t an emergency, Shinji’s going to have to make another visit to the Shouten.  Leave a _reminder_ , so to speak, since Kisuke would obviously need one.

 

* * *

 

The twins start showing up more often.  Yuzu is bright and bubbly, and Shinji can do no wrong in her books because he makes her brother happy.  Karin is more suspicious but not overly so, and she soon learns to relax in his presence and even banter with him on occasion.

They do their homework in the living room, asking for Ichigo’s help sometimes but mostly just so they can hang around here instead of going home.  Shinji rolls his eyes and lets them be.  He knows what it’s like to need a break, and the girls aren’t annoying so Shinji doesn’t mind.

Things only get interesting when they ask to sleep over one night, all hopeful eyes and blatant hints.  Ichigo folds like wet tissue so the girls get his bedroom for the night, and Ichigo bunks on the couch.

Their couch is pretty comfortable, but it’s still a couch, and when the twins _continue_ staying over two or three nights out of seven, and it looks like it’s going to become a pattern, Shinji eyes the way Ichigo grimaces and rolls his neck in the morning when he thinks no one is looking and heaves a sigh.

“Sleep in my room,” Shinji says frankly the next time the twins sleep over.

Ichigo – in the process of spreading blankets on the couch – looks up and blinks.  “What?”

Shinji shrugs nonchalantly.  “You’re gonna get a permanent kink in your neck if you keep sleeping on the couch.  My bed’s plenty big enough for two people.”

He spends the next four seconds watching with more than a little amusement as Ichigo’s ears turn red.

“I’m fine here!”  The kid splutters.  “I don’t-”

“S’matter, Ichigo?”  Shinji leers exaggeratedly, waggling his eyebrows suggestively and inwardly cackling as the red spreads across the rest of the teen’s face.  “Worried about your virtue?  If it makes ya feel better, I promise I won’t feel ya up in your sleep.  At least not mu-”

He dodges the pillow Ichigo hurls at him, laughing outright as he hops around the living room, catching the lamp and dodging two more cushions and a slipper.  “I’m jokin’, I’m jokin’!  I’m just offerin’ outta the goodness of my own heart.  I have a queen-sized bed, Ichigo.  It’s big enough for both of us, an’ this way, ya can actually get a decent night’s rest, alright?”

“Goodness of _what_ heart?”  Ichigo mumbles, and Shinji smirks.  But the teen rakes a hand through his hair, glancing at the couch almost balefully, before nodding grudgingly.  “Yeah, fine.  I’ll… go out and buy a sleeping bag or something tomorrow though.  I’ve been meaning to. That way, I can just sleep on the floor-”

Shinji rolls his eyes very hard, snags Ichigo by the arm, and drags him away down the hall, ignoring the cursing coming from behind him as Ichigo stumbles after him.

 _Honestly_.

 

* * *

 

Sharing a bed becomes routine.  Ichigo never does get around to buying that sleeping bag when it’s so much easier to just crash in Shinji’s room whenever his sisters stay over, which – when it comes down to it – really isn’t _that_ often.  He’s always hesitant about joining Shinji in the same bed though, something Shinji puts down as a combination of teenage hormones and self-consciousness that the kid will get over sooner or later.

He should’ve known better.

The thing is, Ichigo has nightmares.  Of course he does, and Shinji was expecting it, was even fully prepared to be woken up by screams or restless pacing or even tears, except he hasn’t heard anything of the sort since Ichigo moved in with him.

He realizes why soon enough – Ichigo doesn’t make any noise when he has nightmares, and it’s only coincidence that Shinji finds out even that much.  He gets up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom, and when he comes back, well, Ichigo’s still conked out on his side of the bed, but what catches his attention is how utterly motionless the teen is.  It’s unnatural.  If his breathing isn’t short and shallow, he’d think Ichigo was dead.

As it is, the kid is lying on his side, facing away from Shinji’s side of the bed, curled up into as small a ball as physically possible.  So, the way he always sleeps.  Except his arms are also tucked close under the sheets, wrapped rigidly around himself, and his brow is more furrowed in his sleep than it typically is when he’s awake.  He’s sweating, and frantic movement flickers beneath his eyelids.  But he doesn’t so much as twitch.  Doesn’t whimper.  Doesn’t cry out.

Shinji swears.  He climbs back onto the bed and – as gently as he can manage – shakes the boy awake.

 _That_ gets a reaction.

Ichigo’s eyes snap open, wild and terrified with a frenzied, feverish light in their depths.  He makes a choked off sound before one of his arms lashes out, and Shinji just barely evades it.  Then Ichigo’s rolling away, rolling right off the bed, and in the next instant, he’s on his feet, hands grasping air like he’s reaching for a blade he can no longer hear, head turning from side to side like he’s looking for a threat.  The problem is, he’s not really seeing anything that’s actually _here_.

Shinji backs away.  Doesn’t approach.  He’s seen PTSD before, in himself, in others.  He keeps his hands out in the open, spread and harmless, and he starts talking, soft and soothing reassurances, the way one might talk to a skittish, cornered stray that’s only ever known hurt.

It takes a while but Ichigo eventually comes back from wherever his mind took him this time.  Shinji hates imagining Ichigo struggling with his nightmares by himself, learning to shut himself up, probably because he didn’t want to worry his sisters and father.  Wasn’t the latter a doctor now?  Shouldn’t he have foreseen the lingering mental problems of a _sixteen-year-old war veteran_ who’s just lost a good chunk of his soul?

Oh who’s he kidding, it’s Isshin.  So of course not.

“Sh- Shinji?”  Ichigo gasps out at last, thin and thready, and his hands tremble as they grip the nightstand for support.  “I- I’m sorry, I don’t u- usually wake other people when I have- and I thought I’d be- I’m sorry-”

“Stop apologizin’,” Shinji sighs, more tired and concerned than irritated.  “D’ya have a change o’ clothes?  Ya’ve sweated through those ones.”

Ichigo does, so Shinji shoos him off to change once he looks a little steadier.  In the meantime, Shinji heads to the kitchen for some hot chocolate.

They’re back in bed, with Ichigo bundled under the blankets and his hands wrapped around a warm mug before they talk, and even then, they sit in silence for a while.  Ichigo is still tense and seems one wrong move away from bolting so Shinji doesn’t push until the kid’s sipped away half the chocolate.

“I,” He starts abruptly, ignoring the way Ichigo’s shoulders bunch.  “Am over nine hundred years old.”

Ichigo’s head sways in his direction.  Shinji quirks a wry smile down at his drink.  “Out of all the Shinigami ya’ve met, probably only… oh, a handful are older than me.  Yamamoto, Unohana-san, Kyouraku, Ukitake.  Can’t really think of anyone else off the top o’ my head.  Even the old man’s lieutenant, what’s-his-name, is… fifty years younger than me I think?  Give or take.  Point is, I’m pretty fuckin’ old.  I mean I'm certainly not a senior citizen yet, thanks very much, but even by non-human standards, I  _am_ quite a bit inta the adult range.  Not a whole lot o’ people get ta my age, in my profession.  Or, former profession I s'pose.  Either way, I’ve seen my fair share of horrors.  Experienced ’em.  Caused ’em.  Stood by and watched others deal ’em out.  It was part o’ my job, or it was necessary, or it was for the greater good an’ I hadn’t learned ta stop carin’ ’bout the consequences of sayin’ no yet.  So, still part o’ my job.  And I had a hell of a lot o’ time ta get pretty damn used ta it.  But I still get nightmares about ’em sometimes.”

He glances to the side at the flush that creeps into Ichigo’s cheeks.  “It’s nothin’ ta be embarrassed or ashamed about, Ichigo, even if ya wake up screamin’ or sobbin’ your eyes out.  Hell, at least it means you’re still feelin’ somethin’, and honestly, ya never wanna lose that.  Ya never wanna get so numb that ya just don’t care anymore.  Nightmares happen.  Mental an' emotional stress happens.  I hear they call it post-traumatic stress disorder these days, and I’ll assume you're familiar with the term.  Ya were in a _war_.  You're _allowed_ ta not be okay about that.  It's  _normal_ , especially for a _sixteen-year-old_ _teenager_.  What ain’t normal is this thing you’re tryin’ ta do here, puttin’ on your brave tough guy face and handlin’ all your baggage alone instead of workin' through it so ya can move on.”

Ichigo’s hands go white-knuckled around the mug but he manages to lift his eyes and meet Shinji’s.  “I just- I _can_ handle it, on my own.  I mean, if I- I’d scare my sisters, you know?  If I didn’t keep quiet, keep the nightmares quiet, keep the fighting quiet, it’d just get worse.  They used to cry if I went home black and blue and bleeding, when I was younger and I… came back from a scuffle.  And they were horrified that one time I couldn’t keep the screaming down at night when I was still living at home, 'cause I was dreaming about- about Ulquiorra and- and what he did.  I never want them to look like that.  So I’m- I’m used to handling stuff on my own.  I have to.”

Shinji listens patiently but he can't help raising an irate eyebrow at the end.  “And what exactly d’ya think _I’m_ here for?  The whole _point_ is that ya _don’t_ have ta.”

“But-”

“ _Ichigo_ ,” Shinji finally snaps because this kid just doesn’t _understand_.  “You’re a protector, I _know_ , I get that.  Ya protect your family and your friends ’cause you’re stronger than them, and at one point or another, they’ve all needed your protection.  But ya don’t have ta protect _me_ , ’cause I’m strong enough ta _take care of myself_.”

He pauses.  Ichigo is finally looking at him again, staring again, wide-eyed and pale and so, so young.  Shinji looks down at his drink, and then at Ichigo once more, rarely as serious as he is now.  “And if it’s not too gallin’ ta hear from someone who contributed jack all ta beatin’ Aizen, I’d like ta think I’m also strong enough ta take care o’ ya a bit too.”

A long beat of silence ensues.  Shinji gulps down some of his hot chocolate and makes a face.  Lukewarm would be a better word for it.

“…I thought you said you’d mock my pain,” Ichigo says at last, and his voice is hoarse like he’s been crying, but his eyes are dry enough, and he even has a funny lopsided smile tugging at his lips.

“I’m sure I’ll get ’round ta that sooner or later,” Shinji assures, setting aside his mug before looking over at Ichigo again.  It takes a few seconds, but eventually, Ichigo does glance back at him, gaze bobbing up and down for a moment before holding Shinji’s gaze.  “Feel better now?”

Ichigo nods slowly, fingers unclenching from his mug bit by bit, and Shinji can tell when the embarrassment sets in.  Ichigo’s not big on huge emotional displays, no surprise there.  Shinji isn’t either honestly, but he can make exceptions now and then when it’s necessary.

“Back ta sleep then?”  He suggests, because it’s past three in the morning, and because he thinks the kid’s reached his quota of heart-to-heart talks for the week.

Ichigo nods almost meekly, definitely wearily, and he finishes off the rest of his drink and puts the mug on the bedside table before crawling back under the sheets completely, rolling onto his side.  It’s the first time he’s done that and doesn’t also put his back to Shinji as well.

Shinji lies down too, tucking an arm under his head and staring idly up at the ceiling, not quite ready to doze off again yet.

“Shinji?”

Shinji snorts, exasperatedly, helplessly fond.  “You’re welcome, kid.  Now go the fuck ta sleep.  Ya have school tomorrow, and truancy is only allowed for emergencies and naughty little boys.”

Ichigo kicks him from under the blankets.  Shinji figures he’ll let him get away with it just this once.

 

* * *

 

Three hours later, Ichigo heads off to school in a rush, apparently needing to head in early for a project.  Shinji promises to see the twins out the door safely ( _What the hell could happen to them in that short a time anyway?_ ), but he holds them back before they leave.

“I need ya ta stop sleepin’ over, at least for now,” He tells them bluntly.  Karin stiffens and immediately makes to interrupt but Shinji bulldozes right over her.  “Your brother’s so busy worryin’ ’bout ya that he doesn’t have time ta worry ’bout himself.”

Karin closes her mouth, and she and her twin exchange a loaded glance.

“It’s the nightmares, isn’t it?”  Yuzu is the one to ask, looking crestfallen.  “We heard- We heard him one time, back at home.  He was screaming, and he woke all of us, and _he_ wouldn’t wake up until-”

She breaks off, and Karin’s expression darkens like a thundercloud.  “-until Goat-Face kicked him into a wall.”

Shinji suddenly has an overwhelming urge to commit murder.  It takes a good three seconds to wrestle it back down.  “He _what?_ ”

“He said it was fine, that Ichi-nii just needed a good wakeup call, and he laughed it off once Ichi-nii was awake,” Karin bites out.

“Karin started yelling at Otou-san,” Yuzu continues, and for once, there’s nothing cheerful about her, just an exhaustion that makes her look surprisingly similar to her brother in this one moment, especially when she rubs her forehead like she has a headache.  “But all the loud noise just seemed to scare Onii-chan more so she dropped it, and we tried to comfort Onii-chan instead, but he wouldn’t let any of us close.  I don’t know if- I don’t think he was even really aware of who we were for a few minutes.  He banged his head when Otou-san-”

“-attacked him,” Karin finishes, and Yuzu winces.  “And then Goat-Face said everything was fine and told us to go back to bed and basically dragged us back to our room.  We heard him talking to Ichi-nii afterwards.”  Her eyes flash with a furious light.  “He told Ichi-nii not to scare us like that.  Said a bunch of other _bullshit_ about how Ichi-nii took down what’s-his-face, Aizen, so he shouldn’t be having bad dreams ’cause Ichi-nii _won_.”

Yuzu doesn’t even reprimand Karin for her language this time.  Shinji is too busy reining in his reiatsu to feel even a little bit amused.

“Otou-san did say Onii-chan could talk to him if he has to,” Yuzu admits.

“As if Ichi-nii would,” Karin scoffs.  “Ichi-nii’s never gone to Goat-Face for _anything_.  Why would he?”

And doesn’t that say everything.

“Right, well,” Shinji says brusquely once he isn’t stabbing at his scrambled eggs anymore like he wants to kill them.  “Like I said, I want ya out.  Ichigo needs space ta muddle through his PTSD right now, and that ain’t gonna happen around the two of ya.  Ya don’ wanna sleep at home, fine, but go find somewhere else ta sleep.”  He considers this for a moment.  “That, or ya sit your brother down and tell him ya can handle his shit, and he doesn’t need ta coddle ya as much as he does anymore.  And ya make him _believe_ it.  _Then_ you can stay.”

For several seconds, the twins blink at him like they really don’t know what to say ( _what is with the Kurosaki siblings and all the staring like Shinji’s sprouted antlers or something?_ ), not even an angry retort about how they’re Ichigo’s sisters, and they can stay if they want to because Ichigo _wants_ them here, which Shinji sort of expected, at least from Karin.

Well, it’s not the first time a Kurosaki’s surprised him.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re really straightforward?”  Karin asks, and she honestly sounds like she’s asking because she’s curious.

“No, actually,” Shinji shrugs, easing his grip on his cutlery.  “Mos’ people would say I’m the opposite.  Nowhere near as bad as Kisuke of course but…” He shrugs again.  “I figure though, in this case, that there’s no point beatin’ around the bush.  And since your brother ain’t ever gonna put his issues over ya two, I’ll just have ta do it for him.”

He raises his eyebrows at them.  The two share another meaningful look, an entire conversation passing between them in the time it takes Shinji to polish off the last of his eggs.

“Alright,” Yuzu is the one who speaks this time, her verdict coming decisively.  “We’ll talk to Onii-chan.  It’s probably high time we do, actually.”

Karin wrinkles her nose.  “Sometimes, I swear Ichi-nii thinks we’re still five and he needs to protect us from everything.”

“Brother prerogative,” Shinji points out, rising from his seat and taking his plate to the sink.  “Parent prerogative too, the way I hear it.”

Karin shrugs, and Yuzu smiles.  Shinji nods and glances at the clock.  “Whatever.  So long as ya do one of the two, I don’t care which.  Now grab your backpacks and whatever else ya need.  You’re gonna be late if ya don’t take off now, and then Ichigo’s gonna try and kick my ass for turnin’ ya inta miniature delinquents or somethin’.”

Karin snorts, and Yuzu giggles, but they both run off towards Ichigo’s bedroom, returning in seconds with their bags and coats.

“Head straight ta school,” Shinji sees them out, all the way to the elevator.  “Spike your reiatsu like I showed ya if ya run inta any trouble.  And, I dunno, have fun I guess.”

Karin rolls her eyes at him but Yuzu beams and waves, and then the elevator doors slide shut before starting its descent.

Shinji exhales gustily as he turns and slouches back into the suite.  Well, they’re good kids at least.  He can see why Ichigo loves them so much.  Still, they’re kind of exhausting, although maybe that’s just the lack of sleep talking.  Speaking of which, after he sticks everything into the dishwasher, he’s going back to bed.

 

* * *

 

Shinji makes a point of spending a few hours each day over the next few days out of the apartment whenever he knows all three Kurosakis are there.  They must find some time for that talk because a week later, Ichigo approaches him with a scowl that isn’t quite as fierce as it could be.  He doesn’t grab Shinji by the front of his shirt or anything that violently drastic but his glare makes up for it.

“You went behind my back to talk to my sisters,” Ichigo accuses.

“In a way,” Shinji concedes.

“You knew they would tell me.”

“Wasn’t tryin’ ta hide it.”

Ichigo glares a bit harder before relenting.  “Never do it again.”

“If I don’t have ta,” Shinji compromises.

Ichigo palms his face, mutters something even Shinji can’t hear, and then stalks back out of the room.

All in all, Shinji would call this entire venture a smashing success.  He wasn’t exactly _rude_ or even particularly threatening, but he’d still bet good money that nobody ever talked to the Kurosaki twins the way Shinji did and got away with it, and he didn’t even get punched.

Now on to Phase Two.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Please leave a review on your way out.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so here's the last chapter I have, and the end of this will also conclude the Ichigo-healing arc. I mean, he'll still be low-key dealing with his issues - trauma doesn't disappear just like that - but these four chapters were the ones that delved into how Ichigo was feeling post-war and how Shinji helped keep him from going off the deep-end.
> 
> I'll be working on the next arc now, the plot of which is still in progress. I am mostly certain that the fullbringers won't be making an appearance, or if they do, it isn't going to follow canon, and the whole thing will be pretty AU. I won't post it until I finish the arc the way I did this time since I think that works better than leaving everyone hanging in the middle of a cliffhanger or something.
> 
> Anyway, I hope everyone's enjoyed this fic so far, and thank you so much for all the comments you've left!

 

“He’s your nephew, in a way.  Did ya just not care, or did Isshin stop ya?”

Ishida Ryuuken, to his credit, does not do Shinji the disservice of pretending he doesn’t understand despite Shinji’s abrupt entrance.  He doesn’t look up from the paperwork he’s going through at his desk but his body’s also angled towards the window of his office where Shinji is sitting, one leg dangling outside, the rest of him balanced precariously on the sill.

“The second,” Ryuuken says in a voice that holds very little inflection.  He scribbles something in a report, shuts it, and opens the next one.  “Kurosaki said his son didn’t need any extra medical assistance since he had no lasting injuries, physical or mental, especially now that his inner Hollow is gone.”

Shinji snorts.  “How the hell did that man get his degree anyway?”

Ryuuken actually does look up at this, however briefly, and his expression doesn’t change but Shinji still gets the vague impression of having his intellect questioned.

“He didn’t.”  The doctor says flatly, returning to his work.  “That shopkeeper faked his credentials so that he could set up a life here and open a clinic to support himself.  Since I believe all Shinigami are required to know at least the basics of first-aid, it wasn’t too far out of the realm of possibility for Isshin to muddle his way through broken bones and flus.  But it takes years of schooling to become a certified doctor, no matter your field of concentration.  Isshin never even attended high school, much less university.  Masaki started dating him straight out of high school, and they were married barely four years later with a child on the way.  He wouldn’t have had time to go to school, even if he’d had the inclination to do so.”

Shinji… can’t say he’s surprised.  It’s certainly straight up Kisuke’s alley – if you can’t get something the legal way, get it _il_ legally, especially when it’s easier.  And it isn’t as if Shinji has that much room to point fingers; the shopkeeper did the same for him when he asked, although Shinji would like to point out that faking a background in _literature_ so that it would be a little easier to get his books published is a far cry from faking a background in _health care_ where lives are literally on the line.

But Kisuke’s never been one to care about that sort of thing, and Isshin has a terminal case of stupidity.  Gods, between the two of them, it’s a miracle they don’t have a private morgue to themselves.

As far as Shinji knows anyway.

Studying Ryuuken, he wonders if the man’s ever felt bitter about it, if he still does, about some fool Shinigami convincing Masaki that it would be best to raise their children ignorant of their heritage and away from all that Quincy nonsense, about having less contact with her side of the family until less became none, and perhaps above all, about dragging his adopted sister into the mess that eventually – even if indirectly – got her killed.

It doesn’t seem like he would, because even under Shinji’s scrutiny, Ryuuken doesn’t so much as twitch, as impenetrable as an iceberg, but Shinji remembers Kisuke mentioning once – when Shinji asked how he managed to get access to a Shinigami-Quincy hybrid after the shopkeeper whirled into the warehouse one day to give them the good news, full to the brim with an ugly sort of single-minded excitement about finally having something that might be able to put them on even footing with Aizen – and Shinji remembers an airy, offhand remark from Kisuke between all the scientific babble about how some young Quincy boy wouldn’t stop yelling at him until he helped save Masaki, and nobody does that unless they care.

Still, it’s none of Shinji’s business in the end, and he very much doubts Ryuuken’s about to pour his heart out about it, so he drops that line of subject and steers them back onto the reason he’s here.  “Fine.  So if Ichigo drops by, ya wouldn’ mind seein’ him?”

Ryuuken’s pager buzzes, and he scrolls through it, frowning.  “No.”

“Would he need ta make an appointment?”

Ryuuken finally looks up again, directly at Shinji, his eyes a cold, impassive grey behind his glasses.  “No, although I would like some forewarning.”  He pauses before opening a drawer and retrieving a small rectangular card, one he flicks at Shinji, who lazily catches it between two fingers.  “My private number.”

Shinji salutes him sloppily with it.  “I’ll have ’im call ahead.”

And with that said, he leaps back out the window, shunpoing home.

 

* * *

 

Another two weeks go by, during which the twins cut back their visits a little, and Ichigo shudders himself awake eight times from nightmares that – when the twins are here – result in Yuzu coming in with a tray of chicken broth and Karin with fresh pajamas, and – when the twins aren’t here – result in Shinji calming him down, talking him back to reality, and staying up with him for the rest of the night if that’s what Ichigo needs.

But during the day, Ichigo also starts giving him looks that alternate between speculative and bemused.  Shinji just pretends not to notice anything.

It doesn’t really work of course.  He’d like to say that he understands Ichigo pretty well, but the same could be said of Ichigo, who – despite not knowing much of Shinji’s past, and only knowing him for barely a fraction of his entire lifetime – understands _him_ pretty well too.  Kid’s scarily perceptive like that.

“You’re plotting something,” Ichigo grumbles when they’re getting ready for bed one night.  It’s a no-twins day so Ichigo gets to sleep in his own bed, but they’re both making rounds around the house, ensuring everything’s locked up and the alarm is on.

“Don’t be so dramatic,” Shinji admonishes offhandedly around a yawn as he heads for his bedroom.

“I don’t wanna hear that from _you_ of all people.”

 Shinji grins.  “Don’t worry your pretty little head, Ichigo.  Even if I am plottin’ somethin’, ya know it’s never somethin’ that would hurt ya.”

“I know, but you’re still an underhanded bastard, and I’m just saying, you make me wanna dropkick you off a cliff or something at least once a week.”

Shinji pauses just inside the doorway of his bedroom.  Ichigo grouches his way into his own room, tossing back a long-suffering goodnight before the door swings shut behind him.

 _I know_.

Shinji steps into his own bedroom, scrubbing a hand over his face.  He is far, _far_ too old to be as pleased as he is about some kid trusting him.

Then again, Ichigo stopped being just _some kid_ to him the moment Shinji threw in his lot behind him.

It’s kind of annoying.  Maybe even a bit upsetting.

But it’s nowhere near enough to deter him.

 

* * *

 

It takes another week for Ichigo to catch on to what Shinji is waiting for.  Or maybe he already knew, and he just wasn’t ready yet.  Shinji wouldn’t put it past him.  Then again, _that_ might have something to do with the pamphlets and library books on trauma and recovery that Shinji’s taken to leaving out in the open around their apartment.

There’s only so much Shinji can do to help with the PTSD and other residual problems because he isn’t a trained professional.  The twins can do even less.  They can support him, and Ichigo’s even brought up the war a few times in the dead of night, telling Shinji about some of the Espada or Aizen’s Zanpakutou or what it feels like to die.  And Shinji can listen and offer insight or distraction or steady companionable silence, but he knows there are other issues he can’t cover, and it shows in the dark circles that linger under Ichigo’s eyes and the restless paranoia that seethes under Ichigo’s skin at times.

So, one night, over dinner when the girls aren’t around, Ichigo picks at his food, visibly steels himself, and finally forces out, “Who do you have in mind?  It’s not Urahara-san, right?  ’Cause I like him well enough but I’m not discussing-” He brandishes his fork in the vague direction of his own head.  “-with him.”

“It’s not Kisuke,” Shinji confirms.  “How do ya feel about Ishida Ryuuken?”

Ichigo does a double-take.  He opens his mouth, closes, it and then rolls the idea over his tongue.  “Huh.”

“I got my hands on his credentials,” Shinji continues.  “And psychology’s not his main field, and he’s the director of that hospital of his now, but he’s got a minor degree in it, and he’s certified.”

He lets Ichigo think about it, and Ichigo does but not for long.

“He saved my life once,” He reveals abruptly, and Shinji blinks, surprised.

“Ryuuken?”

“Yeah,” Ichigo nods almost absently, gazing pensively at some middle distance.  “I was… eleven?  And I… I guess I bit off more than I could chew with this one yakuza job.”  He flicks a look at Shinji, who keeps his expression dependably neutral.  “I was supposed to steal some package but I got caught.  And the guys who caught me, well, they weren’t exactly the forgiving type, and they didn’t really care that I was a kid.”

Ichigo actually looks grimly amused here, and he takes a moment to chew on some pasta, swallowing before he continues.  “I don’t think they actually wanted to kill me, just rough me up enough to teach me a lesson, but one of their knives went a bit too deep, and I was fighting back as much as I could too, so, um-” He breaks off and promptly lifts up his shirt, and yeah, that scar’s a nasty one, surgical and neat through the center from being stitched up by a professional, and somewhat faded with time, but still raggedly deep at the edges, proof of a serrated knife that went right through the ribs, deep enough to nick a lung.  “So yeah.”  He pulls down his shirt again.  “As far as I know, they dumped me in a ditch on the side of some road ’cause that’s where Ishida-sensei found me when he happened to drive by on his way home.  He told me all this later since I was unconscious by then, and bleeding out pretty bad too.  But he saw me and called an ambulance, and he treated my injuries as best he could to keep me alive until they could get me to the hospital for proper surgery.  Stitched me up himself and everything.

“I told everyone it was a mugging.  Easier that way.”  Ichigo reaches for his water and swirls the glass thoughtfully.  “Don’t think Ishida-sensei bought it actually but he didn’t say anything either.”  He sets his water down, frowning at it for a moment before releasing a sigh.  “Yeah, okay, I’ll go see him, if he’s okay with it.”

In response, Shinji simply produces the business card, handing it over, only to be surprised again when Ichigo scans the number and nods.  “Oh, he still has the same number.”

Shinji arches an eyebrow.  He also cuts himself some steak.

“Back then, he gave me his number once I was well enough to leave the hospital,” Ichigo explains, fiddling with the card.  “He said to call it if I needed help.”  His brow knits.  “I never did.  But I wasn’t injured to the point of needing surgery again either, so.”

Shinji reaches for his wine.  Admittedly, he doesn’t know Ishida Ryuuken all that well, having only really met him once at the wedding and once more when Masaki invited absolutely everyone, for the second and last time, to her first baby shower, so – while not _completely_ heartless when it came to Masaki – Shinji didn’t think the man was one to go out of his way for someone he didn’t really know either, even if that someone was his nephew.  Granted, handing out his private number wasn’t _that_ far out of his way, but seriously, just look at his son.

Ah well.  “So you’ll go?”

“Obviously,” Ichigo mutters, leaning back in his seat and levelling a resigned look at Shinji.  “You’re _such_ a manipulative nag.”

“ _Excuse ya_ ,” Shinji snipes back, thoroughly offended.  “I haven’t nagged a bit.  Ya came ta this decision all on your own.”

Which is one hundred percent true.  Shinji hasn’t said a word.  He's _hinted_ , very heavily, but mostly, he just paved the way for Ichigo once the kid got his ass in gear.

Clearly, if the unimpressed look is anything to go by, Ichigo doesn’t agree.  But he doesn’t do anything beyond rolling his eyes either, and the incident passes without any further debate.

After dinner, Ichigo goes to make the call.

 

* * *

 

Ichigo starts going to therapy sessions once a week, after school on Wednesdays.  The first few times he goes, Shinji makes sure to swing by early afterwards so that he’s there when Ichigo’s finished.  Session number one sees the kid shuffle out silently, hands shoved in his pockets, shoulders a bit hunched like he wants to hide, eyes distant.  Shinji shoots a look of deep suspicion at Ryuuken, who’s standing placidly by the open door, before ushering Ichigo home.  He doesn’t seem too unsteady, just preoccupied, so Shinji leaves him to it.

Next Wednesday, Ichigo comes out with red-rimmed eyes that avoid all contact with Shinji’s sharp gaze.  Shinji restrains himself from going after Ryuuken with his sword.  Emotional outbursts are normal on the road to recovery, especially when it’s a teenager’s psyche that’s in question.

Still, the Shinigami in Shinji whispers, _Quincy_ , and the rest of him tries very hard not to.  Centuries-old indoctrinated discrimination has no place in this day and age.  The doctor knows what he’s doing – that’s part of the reason why Shinji approached him in the first place – and that should be all that matters.  If he doesn’t trust Ryuuken – and he doesn’t – then it should only be because he doesn’t truly _know_ the man, and not because of his race.

Also, Ichigo would be fucking disappointed if he ever found out some of the things Shinji still struggles with, even now, so that means working twice as hard at erasing the stupid prejudices that being a Shinigami once instilled in him.

The third Wednesday is about the same.  Bloodshot eyes, and Shinji went early enough to hear the muffled shouting through the walls.  That same night, Ichigo has a violent enough nightmare to throw Shinji across the room.

Shinji waves Ichigo’s agitated apology off.  He isn’t even bruised so no harm done.  But Ichigo gets that focused, determined light in his eyes, and he starts meditating the very next day.  Shinji doesn’t disturb him, and he’s a lot calmer afterwards.

The following Wednesday sees Ichigo coming out of therapy looking… better.  He doesn’t look like he’s been crying, and Shinji didn’t hear any yelling.  His shoulders aren’t as tense, and his perpetual scowl isn’t as deep.  Shinji nods curtly at Ryuuken before heading home with Ichigo.

Things begin calming down after that.  Ichigo still has nightmares but not as many, and they’re no longer quite as bad when he does have them.  His sisters visit, and they notice right away that he seems different.  There are still days when he broods, when he comes home from school in a bleak mood, or he doesn’t even get out of bed on a weekend unless Shinji half-cajoles, half-threatens him out of it, but – more often – he’s no longer as weighed down by loss anymore.

He heals, slowly but surely, and Shinji watches, relieved because he may not have always wanted the best for Kurosaki Ichigo but there's also nothing he wants more from Ichigo _now_ , and he's satisfied that he's finally started paying back at least a little of what he owes.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Please leave a review on your way out.**
> 
> ***And on a sidenote: you can probably tell by this point why I was hesitant at the beginning to change this to romantic Shinji/Ichigo ship since it just doesn't quite fit, at least at this point in their relationship, and Shinji's more a brother/close friend at this point (not really a father though imo, although a few of you have suggested it, I just don't really see it, at least the relationships I know between child and father are definitely not like this). Even if they do start dating or whatever, I don't see it happening until sometime in the distant future. So most likely, I'll be keeping them to a platonic bromance sort of thing.**


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